


Thorin was going to kill that wizard

by ThatOneChemistryNerd



Series: Hobbit prompt fics (A work in progress- more often than not at questionable times of night...day...whatever.) [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Another prompt fic! Yay!, Bilbo had hobbit magic, Fíli and Kíli Are Little Shits, More like he's just good with kids, This one is going to be far shorter, Thorin is smitten, also what are titles, kid!Fíli, kid!Kíli, self-proclaimed matchmakers too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:20:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9962999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneChemistryNerd/pseuds/ThatOneChemistryNerd
Summary: Thorin was going to kill that wizard. Really, he was. (P.S.-The tags tell all)(P.P.S- Also it's hard to make summaries for shorter fics.)(P.P.P.S- can anyone tell me how to use the image attachment thingy in chapter posting?)





	1. This was supposed to be a one-shot, I don't know what happened.

Thorin was going to kill that wizard. Maybe even both of them. He could reclaim Erebor with just thirteen dwarves and a hobbit, he was sure. No riddling, grey-clad conjurer necessary.

The only thing was, shortly after the incident had occurred, both of them had conveniently escaped under the guise of ‘wizard business’. More likely they were smoking their pipes and having a good laugh at Thorin’s misfortune, plotting new ways to make his quest even more difficult than it already was.

 Not that he could think of anything else truly worse than the terrors that were his nephews.

 

 Now, don’t get him wrong; Thorin had loved them dearly from the first moment he held Fili and later Kili as newborns, afraid to crush the wee bairns in his hands but marveling through his happy tears at the miracle his sister had made. At that moment he could have been told his sister was actually one of the Valar in disguise and he would have believed it for how incredible his sister sons were.

 The thing was, whenever they became too much trouble as dwarflings (always) he could just hand them off to his sister to deal with (she always gave him _that look_ whenever he did so.)

Dis had always had the uncanny ability to put the fear of Mahal into anyone- be they kingly warrior, or misbehaving dwarfling. It was because of this, and possibly _only_ because of this, she was the only one who had ever managed to properly corral her children, no tutor or sitter could claim the same. Not even poor Vili could manage them for more than a few minutes before the wee devils nearly took down half the mountain range with their antics.

And now Thorin was stuck with them. Not as the grown dwarfs they claimed to be when they signed up for the quest, oh no, but as the small menaces he remembered with a fondness that stemmed from the knowledge he would never have to deal with that again. How wrong he was.

He seemed to be wrong about many things recently, and most of them involved the hobbit. This time it seemed he was wrong about Dis being the only one in possession of the strange and powerful magic that kept Fili and Kili in line, as Bilbo had somehow corralled them into sitting with him while he plucked flowers from the ground and twirled them between his fingers. (Thorin secretly thought they would look nice braided into his hair, but would never admit that even under torture.)

The prince had found his perceptions dramatically altered when the hobbit had saved them from being spit roasted by trolls, however his damnable pride meant that he had yet to admit such to anyone, and covered his mistake with more growling and brooding unfortunately aimed at poor master Baggins.

It wasn’t so much that he had been wrong about the hobbit’s worth (he had been), but that his list of excuses to himself about why his infatuation with said hobbit was a bad idea was growing ever shorter, that made him upset.

Now master Baggins was not only terribly attractive to Thorin’s eyes, but he had also proven clever and quick witted, enough so to save their lives and endear Thorin to him even further. And he had some strange hobbit ability to tame chaos incarnate.

Perhaps they didn’t need the wizard at all if Bilbo proved to have some other useful hobbit magic that could get them through the dragon. Perhaps he could simply ask Smaug to tea and get him to leave through sheer tenacity and politeness. That would be nice.

But they had to get there first, and with the way the company had stopped to coo at Bilbo’s two new parasites (ha), they wouldn’t make it there by Balin’s 300th birthday, let alone Durin’s day.

He really was going to kill those wizards.

Thorin watched bemusedly as wide grins split the faces of his nephews as they enthusiastically dug their hands through grass, picking up as many leaves and twigs as they did flowers. Both of them then proudly presented their finds to Bilbo, who gestured and said something Thorin couldn’t hear that had Kili sticking his tongue out in concentration and Fili looking between what his brother was doing and Bilbo.

The rest of the company sat by watching in varying degrees of amusement; Balin was wearing the smile he always wore when remembering Dwalin as a child, while Dwalin’s normally mulish expression was softened with amusement- he went so far as to laugh (genuinely laugh! Not just chuckle like he did when he thought Thorin was being extraordinarily stupid) when Fili pushed his brother over when he still didn’t understand what he was supposed to be doing and Kili had already finished.

Apparently they were making flower crowns; Glóin and Óin were already sporting Kili’s first two attempts, the former looking quite chuffed and the latter wary of his brother’s tendency to wax poetic about his own child.

The ‘urs’ were all smiling and watching, Bombur likely thinking of his own brood, and Bifur looking consideringly at the flowers.

Kili would likely be upset if Bifur were to eat his flower crowns; Thorin should probably keep an eye on that.

Ori was scribbling furiously in his notebook; apparently trying to capture the image as best he could while Nori looked over his shoulder approvingly. Dori appeared to be doing his best to not cry, seemingly very sentimental over Ori’s childhood with the presence of the two Dwarflings.

Saps, the whole lot of them.

 

Thorin decided that he had had enough, meaning he was afraid his company might notice him staring fondly at Bilbo being all domestic and… motherly.

He cleared his throat with a bit more force than was probably necessary and ordered his companions to start setting up camp, for _‘we’re obviously not going anywhere for the foreseeable future.’_

He gave Bilbo the task of getting firewood, hoping partly not to show favoritism, and partly to get him away from Fili and Kili. It just wouldn’t do if the company thought him unable to deal with his own nephews.

Both dwarflings look summarily put out at being deprived of their personal hobbit, and as one turned to glare stubbornly at the prince. Once he would have run to go get his sister at that look, but now he was an almost-king reclaiming his kingdom and they were his heirs; he’d be damned if he would be cowed by it now.

That did not mean that he didn’t almost call Bilbo back just to eliminate the feeling of unease that promised churlish retribution from the two dwarflings.

Thorin went through the motions of setting up camp, grumbling to himself about the wizards and conditionally condoned murder, all the while uncomfortably aware of the eyes pinned to his back. It was nearly a quarter of an hour later when he turned back around to find both of them sitting exactly where they were when Bilbo left, staring at him entirely without shame and whispering between themselves.

Retribution indeed.

 

Before Thorin could get himself worked up in worry over what was sure to be coming to him, Bilbo returned, arms laden with firewood.

The poor hobbit barely had the chance to chuck his burden away before he was ambushed by two tiny bundles of dwarf, chuckling good naturedly as they did their best impressions of octopi. Hobbit magic. Thorin would swear by it.

Kili clung happily to Bilbo’s trousers as his brother reached his arms toward their hobbit with a cry of “Up, Uncle Bilbo! Up!”.

Thorin was vexed, entirely vexed and he nearly dropped the heavy pot he was holding for it. Fili never let anyone pick him up aside from Dis. When he was a child he was always insisting on walking everywhere himself because “Amad, ‘dults don’t get carried around like that!” and Fili was nothing if not an adult. Well, at least he thought so.

Even sometimes on the quest Thorin wasn’t so sure his nephews actually passed their majority, or if their younger selves simply managed to transfer their brains into their older bodies through some strange cultish ritual. Or perhaps they fell on their heads too many times as toddlers, that made sense too.

Also, ‘Uncle Bilbo!?’ This day was likely to see Thorin’s end yet. He looked around, hoping in vain that no one else witnessed that. Balin looked just as surprised as he did, and Dwalin winked at him. Mahal, was he never to have any peace?

His only consolation was that he wasn’t the only one plagued by his spawn-of-Morgoth sister sons that night. Or the next one. Or the night after that.

Only Bilbo seemed immune to their tricks; never once did he try to get in his bedroll only to find pinecones galore, or wake up and find his mustache braided together with his neighbor’s. To be fair he didn’t have a mustache, or a beard, but that was beside the point.

The company, all of whom besides Balin, Dwalin and Thorin who knew better, had at first thought the dwarflings to be a joyous break from the monotony of travel, Bofur absently joking that the two of them must have been born from fluff and sunshine for how sweet they were. He had later made it very clear that he regretted ever saying that, and begged karma to come save him.

Each morning had Bilbo tutting at them, both appearing thoroughly chastised when he was done. Unfortunately any such recriminations were forgotten by midmorning, and the two made it their life’s work to make everyone else’s a living hell.

One particular morning had Thorin waking up to find ink smudged on his face and hands with Ori mourning his best ink bottle. Thorin muttered and growled as usual, thinking little of it until Dwalin came to stand before him.

“Well?”

“Well what, if you couldn’t tell I’m a bit busy.”

The smirk edging onto Dwalin’s face made Thorin’s stomach curl in dread. “Do you?”

Thorin just growled at him.

“Do I what?”

“Need hugs.”

The prince was confused for a moment, hugs? What… Oh. And the way Dwalin started cackling as horrified realization made its way onto Thorin’s inked-up face made it clear he was not amiss in his assumption.

“BOYS!”

“Now, now,” Dwalin was having far too much fun with Thorin’s suffering. And he claimed to be Thorin’s best friend. ‘ _I’m your only friend_ ,’ he used to say, and he was usually punched for it. “Surely the hobbit could take care ‘o that for ya.”

Was it legal for Thorin to kill his own Captain of the Guard? If it wasn’t he was going to make it legal as his first act as king in Erebor. He made such known to Dwalin, who didn’t take the threat nearly as seriously as he should have.

Instead, he went and got a wet cloth and gave it to mister Baggins, unceremoniously shoving him towards Thorin who was desperately scrubbing at his forehead with a corner of his tunic.

Admirably, despite the fierce blush he sported, the hobbit batted Thorin’s hands away from his face and began wiping away the ink with gentle strokes. Under his ministrations Thorin glowered heavily, following the hobbit’s lead in ignoring the heat flushing his face.

Poor Bilbo, unnerved by the intensity of Thorin’s ever-present scowl, did his best to attempt conversation. “I’m sorry for the boys, I keep trying to get them to stop but they don’t really listen to me.”

Disturbed from his musings, Thorin had to raise an eyebrow at Bilbo’s comment. Did he not notice how Fili and Kili practically hung off him, taking his every word as both law and challenge? (Until they forgot and their attention was captured by something else shiny or moving.)

“Master Baggins, they _only_ listen to you. Or have you not noticed you exception from the many pranks and mischiefs of my sister sons?”

“Alas, I rather fear I am the overall intended victim in all of this.”

It came out as more of an unintelligible mutter that Thorin chose to ignore.

Both adult missed the identical grins aimed at their interaction. If they had noticed, Bilbo would have realized he was absolutely right, and Thorin would have found that sprinting back to the Blue Mountains for Dis was looking more and more like a perfectly feasible idea.

By the time they turned around, both dwarflings were busy trying to race eachother in flower crown construction. The rules apparently, were ‘anything goes’; Fili had his boot in his brother’s face, while Kili was doing an admirable job of attempting to remove flowers Fili had already woven into a chain.

Bilbo just smiled indulgently while Thorin tried valiantly to pretend he wasn’t looking at Bilbo. From the looks he was getting, he wasn’t pulling it off very well.

Oblivious to the goings on of the company, Bilbo wandered over to the two children, both of them freezing as they noticed his approach. As children are want to do, they seemed to be pretending that if they didn’t look guilty then the hobbit wouldn’t notice that they had wrestled eachother to the ground and were covered quite thoroughly in mud and flower petals.

Choosing to humor them, Bilbo merely hummed, and asked them if they had eaten. Both nodded quickly, and stood just as fast when Bilbo instructed them to go and pack up their bedrolls. The shining determination on their faces when they saluted Bilbo and marched off with all the dignity two toddlers raining flower petals could muster would have made Thorin coo with unrestrained glee if the situation had been different and he was alone. As it was he just rolled his eyes and returned to packing up his own bedroll, hoping Bilbo could work his magic when they stated moving again.


	2. This was supposed to be a oneshot, I don't know what happened.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The song Bilbo sings is actually a poem by an anonymous author I got from "The book of a Thousand Poems". I've not gotten around to counting them yet, but it seems like a very accurate title.

Indeed, Bilbo did manage to keep the dwarflings in line through their packing up, and even into the beginning of the trek, however when Thorin made the mistake of sending him out with Bofur to learn how to scout, Fili and Kili saw quite the opportunity.

It took Thorin a good minute or two to realize something was off, really only alerted by the giggles neither child was able to stifle. Apparently the two of them had somehow managed a level of hobbit stealth that had not been reached by any other than Bilbo on the journey- not even Nori could move quite that quietly- and had somehow managed to undo Thorin’s braids while Kili was hiked on his shoulders and Fili was bound to his wrist with a strong, if tiny, grip.

Both braids were completely undone, and the beads nowhere to be seen. It was the height of embarrassment, and would have been a stain on his honor if it had been anyone but his nephews who took them, specifically his nephews as dwarflings, and specifically in the small company of fourteen.

As it was, it was just another mark against Thorin’s inability to contain them and at this point he found he had long since given up on ordering the return of his beads or anything else they had stolen. He would get them back when Fili and Kili were good and ready, and not before.

Thorin found himself not for the first time wishing he were a hobbit- and wasn’t that a thought- instead of the dwarf king he was. Only this time his main motivation was a hope of gaining whatever magic Bilbo possessed to reign over chaos incarnate.

He hadn’t previously considered the idea late at night as he took watch and was woefully distracted by Bilbo’s ears. Nope. Not a thing that happened.

His distraction of Bilbo’s ears continued later; he had found his beads.

Oh Fili and Kili were going to get it. Was there a word for murdering your nephews? If not he was going to make one. He knew damn well that the two of them knew what an exchange of beads meant, even at their age. And because they knew, and Bilbo didn’t, he was going to kill them.

It really shouldn’t have surprised him, as adults they had teased him more than enough about his feelings and as dwarflings they had just the right excuse to mess with him like this. Even if they remembered when they changed back, they weren’t getting off the hook that easily.

Thorin was about to stomp over to Bilbo and demand his beads back before he caught sight of his sister-sons.

Both were glaring heatedly at him, eyes narrowing when he took another tentative step towards an ignorant Bilbo.

Kili shook his head and Fili mimed a slice across his neck, he would be wise to listen to them if he wanted any peace- they were promising the big guns in retribution should he keep walking.

Thorin had a very severe internal struggle going on, the company knew what the beads meant. If he let this continue his feelings would have nowhere to hide, and the hobbit could find out. If he didn’t and kept walking…

Well. Fili and Kili had never been known for their mercy. And who knew how many more days until they grew up again.

Thorin couldn’t do it. Maybe it would turn out okay? If he could just convince the company to not say anything and ask for his beads back when Fili and Kili were back…

Fat chance. Well, Thorin would be damned if he ended up on the bad side of his nephew’s true wrath again. Once was more than enough for even an Elf’s lifetime.

If his heart was the casualty, and quite possibly the loss of a burglar, well it wasn’t exactly something he wanted- feared immensely actually- but Fili and Kili were worse, and would likely make his heart and burglar casualties anyway.

It had been proven that even Dis would not dare interfere with the two of them when they truly had it out for someone. Mahal help whoever that was.

Clenching and unclenching his fists, Thorin glared right back at them but conceded to walking back to camp.

He did not see the devilish grins, nor the high five, and had he seen the resumed whisper-plotting he would have realized that this was so very far from over.

 

The next blow to his emotions and ego came that night when the dwarflings coerced Bilbo into singing for them (read; pleaded and stole food until he gave in) and Thorin realized that the Hobbit’s voice was just as lovely as the rest of him.

 

_Two little clouds, one summer’s day,_

_Went flying through the sky;_

_They went so fast they bumped their heads,_

_And both began to cry._

 

In deference to an earlier conversation between Bilbo and the younglings, he sang a merry tune he had written for the faunts of the Shire, weaving a story with his lilting voice.

_Old father Sun looked out and said:_

_“Oh, never mind, my dears,_

_I’ll send my little fairy folk to dry your falling tears.”_

 

Hadn’t Bilbo said something about his mother’s family having fae blood? If they were sirens Thorin would believe it. Entirely entrenched in the children’s tune he missed Fili and Kili glancing at him and grinning again.

 

_One fairy came in violet,_

_And one wore indigo;_

_In blue, green, yellow, orange, red,_

_They made a pretty row._

 

 _Bilbo would look nice as a rainbow._ Thorin thought. He was hopeless. Honestly, he knew that didn’t even make sense but there the thought was, bouncing around his head.

 

_They wiped the cloud-tears all away,_

_And then from out the sky,_

_Upon a line the sunbeams made,_

_They hung their gowns to dry._

 

Bofur ruined the moment by exclaiming, “Aye lads, every time there’s a rainbow, there’s a bunch of naked fairy folk runnin’ about!”

 


	3. Bees- the unwitting matchmakers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I'm not sure why I'm writing this other than to have some comic relief from my other fic. Also I apologize if Thorin is ooc, (let's face it, he totally is) but the fic isn't really meant to be serious to begin with. Seriously, don't drop beehives on people. Or steal stuff. Just don't imitate anything in this fic, really.

 

            The next incident to occur regarding both Bilbo and Thorin happened on a Mersday, almost immediately after a monsoon. Well, that’s what Nori called it, and apparently rain- at least excessive amounts of it- caused Nori’s fingers to itch.

The thing is, when Nori’s fingers itch, Gloin tends to get mad. Often because he’s the recipient of Nori ‘venting’ his frustrations. And when Gloin gets mad, other people tend to get involved. Usually Fili and Kili.

This instance was no exception.

 

The events of that Mersday went something like this;

Nori sidles up to Gloin.

Nori asks about Gimli.

Everyone in the immediate vicinity subtly finds other things to be doing.

Far away.

Gloin, initially suspicious but soon overcome by the opportunity to laud praises on his son, starts talking.

Gloin gets lost in memories and forgets that he was ever talking to anyone.

Nori nicks his coin purse.                                                  

Gloin doesn’t take immediate notice, but he figures it out soon enough.

Nori skips away, happy as you please, and-in this instance- climbs a tree.

Gloin takes to throwing things at him to get him down.

Fili and Kili, in the spirit of things, start doing this also.

On accident (‘it was no accident,’ grumps Thorin) Kili hits a beehive instead.

Thorin was the unfortunate soul who happened to be riding underneath it at the time it fell.

After a sorry series of events that involved much laughter from the company and a slightly lesser amount of girlish screams from Thorin, (accompanied with a thud as he fell off his pony) the Company sets up camp for the day.

Bilbo happened to be the only one who knew what plants made a good poultice to help with bee stings, and therefore gets Óin’s job.

Thorin denies being stung, or in pain despite the red blotches covering his face.

Bilbo doesn’t appreciate people lying to him.

This ended in Bilbo dragging Thorin away by the ear while Dwalin chortled in the background. (‘ _You’re dead Fundinson. Mark my words_.’)

He was then sat upon by a very irate, tired and overall fairly flustered hobbit until he conceded that Bilbo would be treating his injuries- _‘injuries. Pah_.’-whether he wanted it or not.

Thorin then sat idly and tried to avoid eye contact when Bilbo was touching his face. (‘ _Such soft hands_..’ Thorin mused.)

“If you would _stop fidgeting_ , please and thank you, this would go much faster you know.”

 

Or perhaps not so idly.

“I do not _fidget_ , Master Baggins.”

“You most certainly do.” He retorted. “And if you turn any redder I won’t be able to tell the difference between these stings and the rest of you. Then I’ll have to cover all of you in this paste, and I expect that would be rather inconvenient- not to mention I don’t have enough of the plant left to accomplish such a task.”

Indeed this had rather the opposite effect it was intended- Thorin blushed nearly to the roots of his hair at the idea of Bilbo’s hands on _all of him_ , and the poor hobbit just sighed rather dramatically and put his hands in his lap.

“Master Oakenshield.” Bilbo began. “I know I’m hardly the first candidate you would have picked for this job, in fact I expect I’m one of the last, but the task was appointed to me and I’m going to do it to the best of my ability, no matter your opinion on the matter. So, if you would be so kind as to stop moving and calm down a bit, I’d like to keep working on your face.”

He flinched as he realized just how awkward those last few words sounded, but did his best to hold his ground and meet Thorin’s eyes. Thorin himself, however, was once again woefully distracted by his beads- _his!_ \- sitting nicely behind Bilbo’s pointed ears, and was only brought back when Bilbo’s posture began to wilt under the scrutiny.

“Ah, ah, not at all Master Baggins. Please pardon my inattention, it was not my intent to give the impression that I was displeased with you presence. Rather the opposite really, especially with you wearing my beads.”

He… had not meant to say that. Not at all. Forget the company giving up what they meant, he was practically digging his own grave.

“…Your beads?”

“Erm. Yes. My beads. I take it Fili and Kili did not tell you?”

Bilbo turned his eyes to some point down by Thorin’s foot and glared.

“No, they did not mention that bit of information.” He then began to take them out. “My sincerest apologies Master Oakenshield, you needed only ask for their return, I meant no offence by it—“

His ramblings were cut off when Thorin stilled the hobbit’s hands with his own and began rebraiding the hair. Try as they might, neither could stop the flushing of their faces; Bilbo because he was unused to the attention and, well. …Thorin. Thorin because braiding someone’s hair was such an intimate thing. Not that Bilbo knew that. Not that Bilbo was ever going to know that- if Thorin had a say.

Neither spoke as Thorin worked, and neither of them made mention that Thorin’s hands lingered a bit longer than necessary in Bilbo’s hair.

The only other words spoken between them that night were the quiet “ _Thanks_ ” from Bilbo when Thorin dropped his hands, the gruffer version of the same from Thorin when Bilbo finished with the poultice and a whispered ‘ _goodnight_ ’ after the company had settled down and Thorin took first watch near Bilbo’s bedroll.

And if Thorin’s fingers found his beads in Bilbo’s hair when he thought the hobbit was asleep? Well. Bilbo didn’t say anything.


End file.
